Viola McCoy
Adrian waves me off like he always does—charming, warm, a little too easy about everything. He says something witty about the ending of our manuscript draft, but I’m not really listening. My thoughts are elsewhere.
“Don’t worry about the rumors,” he says casually. “Let them talk.”
Easy for him to say.
I smile faintly, nod, then leave the workshop room behind.
The hallway at Reynolds Publishing is quiet. Most of the team’s gone home, the click of my heels the only sound following me out the glass doors. The moment the air hits my skin, I exhale.
I should be excited. Dinner tonight is Logan’s idea—an apology dinner, he called it. A chance to make up for the absolute disaster at his father’s house a few nights ago. I could still hear Charles’ voice sometimes in the silence. Sharp, ugly, and cold. I don’t blame Logan for storming out. I’d wanted to do the same.
But… something’s different now. Something in him. Something in me.
As I cross toward the elevator, a woman stops me n
